Mountain Air

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

"Quinn, you need to get up!"

I rolled over in my amazingly warm bed and groaned.

"Mom," I whined when my bedroom door burst open and light filled my quiet and dark haven. "It's too early. Why do I have to go?"

"Because it's school."

"But I'm not a morning person."

"Clearly," my mother smiled as she took in my bedhead and droopy eyes. She was already dressed and ready to conquer the day. Her hair was nicely curled and she had on a pair of khakis, signifying that she would be going into work at some point. "But it's your first day of senior year! You should be excited!"

"I think I have senioritis already." I finally got up and slowly walked over to my closet door. Was I going to dress up today? I didn't really want to, but Sophia would go batshit crazy if I rolled up to school in athletic clothes.

I guess I was dressing up then. The things I do for my friends.

My mom sat on the edge of my unmade bed as I picked out my outfit. "How are you feeling today?" She asked.

I signed quietly. Ever since the camping trip, she'd been extremely overprotective - well, much more so than she ever was before. If I coughed she would jump up and ask if I needed to go to the doctor. I loved that she cared but it was starting to get annoying.

I wasn't at the peak of health, but I didn't want her to know that.

I responded once I had my school outfit in my arms. "Well, besides the fact that I'm waking up at a teenager's opinion of an ungodly hour, I'm fine, Mom. There's no need to worry."

"Alright," she said, possibly buying my lie. Sometimes I couldn't tell with my mother. "I'll go make you some breakfast."

"Thank you!" I yelled as the door closed behind her.

Ten minutes later I bounded down the stairs in a pair of jean shorts, sandals, and a nice tank top that Sophia would hopefully approve of. But one could never be sure when it came to the Fashion Queen Bee.

I smelled the bacon long before I saw it. Every school year my mom would make us kids - that is, my three older brothers and I - breakfast on the first day of school. But it was the only day she would do so. The rest of the year we were on our own, forced to hunt and scavenge for our own survival.

I practically sprinted into the kitchen, ready for my plate of bacon and waffles. Oh, and some more bacon.

Wait, have I mentioned bacon?

I grabbed a plate from the counter and gathered my mouthwatering breakfast. "Thanks, Mom!" I said between bites of my meal. I wasn't even at the table yet and I was already scarfing down my food.

My mom looked up from the stove and laughed when she saw me with my mouth full. "Honey, chew with your mouth closed. Elbows off the table, and please, use your napkin."

I chewed, swallowed, and responded, "yes, Your Majesty. Where's the King this morning?"

"He had to go in early."

"Ah, gotcha."

My father was the head of a respectable fabrication shop in town and sometimes when they were close to being behind on a job, he went in early with a few other workers to get everything taken care of to catch them back up. I didn't think welding was really my forté, so that was out as a future career path. My dad, on the other hand, absolutely loved his job. He got to work with his hands all day, and interact with other people, rather than being condemned to a cubical for the rest of his life.